2001: A Space Odyssey

“I can feel it. My mind is going. There is no question about it.

I can feel it…I can feel it…I can feel it. I’m afraid.”

––HAL 9000,

 

Dave Bowman’s shutdown of the HAL 9000 supercomputer in Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) establishes a glaring question about humanity as HAL expresses his profound confessions of fear as he is powered off––symbolically murdered––by Dave after HAL has killed crewmate Frank Poole and locked Dave out of their spaceship. While it may be inviting to presume that HAL’s antagonistic behavior resonates with the dangers of human advancements (certainly, it does), his vulnerability and expressiveness in this scene can invite us to ponder the boundaries of humanness that HAL crosses, and how they are treated in Kubrick’s narrative of human development and discovery.

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Whether HAL is programmed to “reproduce” or to simply “mimic” humanness in his function becomes a central question from the introduction of the computer and the crew aboard the ship seen in the interview. Considering the legitimacy and intricacies of HAL’s existence as a possible human entity can be reinforced by the ontological questions discussed in cinematic and artistic theory. Kubrick’s portrayal of HAL in his film may redefine our interpretations of how humanity can be understood and depicted in art. HAL can think and “feel”, articulating his emotions in a way that is starkly contrasted with the emotion expressed by Dave and Frank on their journey. However, as Dave does posit about HAL: “whether or not he has real feelings is something I don’t think anyone can truthfully answer.” To concretely solve and end this problem of HAL’s humanity is certainly futile. But, through a meticulous analysis of HAL and his connections to humanness as well as Kubrick’s representation of technological advancement in 2001, we can acknowledge cinema’s keen ability to grapple with such pressing questions about what it means to exist, to live, and to be human.

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            Seemingly the biggest blockade for HAL’s integration with mankind is his lack of physical presence, specifically the presence of a body. He’s seen as nothing more than a black rectangle with a red eye as well as his inability to occupy physical space beyond his core memory center is what defines HAL as nonhuman. However, it is the fear and feeling that HAL describes in his death which may point to the possibility that HAL does in fact take on some sort of bodily connection to physical sensation. His repetition that he can “feel” his shutdown implies his understanding that his cognitive functions are being severed from some physical body. In this case, the body of HAL could be interpreted as the ship that he has autonomy over. The disconnection of his mind from the operations of his ship body might be said to have established a true pain within HAL that causes him to express his feeling it in such an emotionally apt, and nearly heartbreaking, way. HAL understands that his life as a computer nears its end and seems to “feel” and sense the emotional and even physical parameters of it. If there was no backlash or fear expressed against Dave’s shutting him down, the relatability and effectiveness of Kubrick’s scene of the shutdown in instigating human emotion and empathy from the human spectator would not nearly be so great. It is HAL’s desire for life in the face of his demise that marks such a sincere sense of human understanding, despite the supercomputer’s prideful flaws, or malfunctions, that have gotten him to this point.

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In an essay addressing the fetishization of cyborgism within cinematic criticism and reception, Vivian Sobchack writes about the “lived-body” and its role in the pains and emotions of our human bodies that help us understand our irreplaceable existence as human:

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Pain would remind him that he doesn’t just have a body, but that he is his body […] Both significant affection and a moral stance […] are based on the lived sense and feeling of the human body not merely as a material object one possesses and analyzes among others, but as a material subject that experiences its own objectivity, that has the capacity to bleed and suffer and hurt for others because it can sense its own possibilities for suffering and pain. (213)

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The sensation of pain is at the core of our vulnerable bodies of flesh that make us human. The understanding of these sensations, and the feeling of that pain for others, are a product of our knowledge and experience throughout our lives with these bodies. As a robot, it might be easy to presume that for HAL, there does not exist “lived-body” that has experienced a life leading up to the death of HAL. However, the way in which HAL is programmed, to be able to incite a deeper connection between him and the two scientists as stated in the interview, insinuates an immersion between HAL and the lived bodies of the humans who have programmed him. Being the intellectually superior computer that HAL is, it might be said that his cognitive functions are integrated with an understanding of the human experience that leads him to place the deep sense of value on his life witnessed in the shutdown scene. This insertion of the lived body into HAL’s operative functions may serve as the reason for his apparent appreciation of existing.

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Continuing with the idea of HAL’s existence as an imitation, or perhaps reproduction of human life, Walter Benjamin’s theories behind mechanical artistic reproduction are applicable. Benjamin considers the way in which any piece of art can be reproduced, and through those reproductions comes with it the “concept of authenticity.” (667) It appears at first glance far too abstract to align the reproduction of art with the reproduction of humanity. It may, however, be of substance to consider HAL’s role as a reproduction of human knowledge and human experience, and the question of legitimacy in truly being that reproduction, or just a mimicry. It is not the same as the reprinting of a text, or another copy of an painting, but HAL does certainly exist within a similar sense as the products that Benjamin considers. HAL seems to reproduce authentic human emotion in his despair at his death despite the limitations of his body. Benjamin also brings up the point of the “aura” that is given around a piece of art, and in this case, we can be conscious of the different “aura” of HAL. (674) Using Benjamin’s own example of the “aura” that “emanates from” a reproduction of a character like Macbeth, the aura an original piece of art, like the differing interpretations of Shakespeare’s character reproduced from actor to actor, cannot be replicated. Each one is different. If we are considering HAL as a mechanical reproduction of the metaphorical artwork that is humanity (although rather loosely calling it that), a very distinct “aura” of human nature is represented in the computer––one that thinks and feels in a similar but inexact way to the original, or authentic, human being.

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There is no question that the fear and pain of being shutdown has awoken HAL “to his senses”, as Sobchack previously posits, whether it is seriously felt or merely intellectualized and spoken from his programming. Kubrick’s ability to portray HAL in this sense to the audience, who themselves can understand with a sort of “reciprocity”––the physical sensations that can be reflectively felt from the contents of the cinematic screen-image––fosters an unexpectedly profound connection between HAL and the human audience of Space Odyssey. (Sobchack 12) Sobchack also writes about the “limitations” of human “flesh” and her acceptance with those restrictions, which culminate to a deeper understanding of the human experience. (Sobchack 210) It is HAL’s initial lack of understanding in his limitations, and his intense pride regarding his intellectual superiority, that makes his downfall later in the film such a surprising realization of his very real mortality. Once Dave reenters the ship after being exiled by HAL, the computer finds that he can only watch Dave as he is unable to physically intervene. The limitations of HAL’s robotic flesh and the pain of his death are what lead to his admittance of his “very poor decisions” and the assertions of his willingness to change.

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What counters the challenging discussion of HAL’s humanity in this sense is that his demonstration of humanness is only delivered to the audience through words. The faceless and emotionless gaze of the red eye that watches over the ship does not allow for any sign of outwardly expressed emotions. The lack of signage about feelings or pains may lead again to the illusiveness shrouding the fact of whether HAL feels the pain of being turned off or not. The physical and expressive “limitations” of HAL’s programming––his existence as a red dot as well as the monotone voice that cannot physiologically produce vocal inflections––are a product of his existence as a possibly inauthentic reproduction of human life, but do not detract from his ability to feel and think and understand.

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The “face” of HAL is simultaneously his “eye”. Kubrick, who himself is regarded in his capturing of the human face, does seem to create a visual language for HAL that takes place within this eye. In many shots does the camera take the perspective of HAL’s fish-eye lens point of view, looking onto Dave and Frank. Deleuze points us to the fact that in such cinematic shots like a close-up, an object that is not a face does become “faceified” from the way that a “reflecting surface”–– using a clock as his example––stares at the viewer and seemingly becomes this “face”. (Deleuze 88) This is certainly true for HAL, and the interpretation of his actual expressions may be extracted through linking Eisenstein’s ideas behind montage and the collision of shots for the creation of signification with Béla Balász’s theories of the face and the close-up in cinema. HAL’s “face” is constant, unchanging, and non-reactionary.

 

Balász’s “silent soliloquy”––an unspoken “monologue” expressed in the face––might be found in scenes such as HAL’s murder of the crew members of the Jupiter Mission in hibernation. (Balász 277) The on-screen text depicting the termination of “life functions” on the ship and the “computer malfunction” that has killed them is directly followed by a shot of the murderer. HAL’s killing of the men may bring up several interpretations for his emotion in this shot: perhaps satisfaction at nearly besting the humans who he sees as trying to “jeopardize” the Jupiter Mission or pleasure at his intellectual superiority and control of the lives of the humans who believe they rule over him. Of course, due to his mere faceification––not having a human face––it is not so readily expected that HAL has these reservations against Dave and Frank. There is no opportunity to foresee HAL’s mania, but the constant gaze of the red eye is later seen to be having these motivations that later become openly spoken by HAL when he denies Dave entry back into the ship. The inability to read the emotions of HAL and his facelessness as a reason for his distance from humanness is sharply countered by Kubrick’s depiction of Frank and Dave, whose facial expressions are so robotic and apathetic that they may be said to be less human in their expressiveness than HAL.

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It is important to note HAL’s flaws that contribute to his downfall, but ultimately seem to make him more human. His excessive pride regarding his intellectual dominance over humans triggers his lackluster decision-making. His error in detecting the shutdown of an antenna unit outside of the ship may also play into HAL’s deep insecurities about his own cognitive functions, which seem to be highlighted in the confession of his anxieties that he unwarrantedly expresses to Dave about the Jupiter Mission. In this moment, Dave seems not to give much of his own opinion or concerns––perhaps due to distrust of HAL––while HAL opens and explains in detail his uncertainties about the mission that seem to weigh on him.

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HAL battles with his identities as something that feels and something that thinks. HAL’s flaws that lead to operational error combined with the scientists’ desire to shut him down because of it creates a glaring paradox of HAL’s existential purgatory as both a human and as a computer. His expression of his emotions and his fatal misjudgments that are a consequence of him being programmed to be more human is deeply contradicted by the expectations that he must function as a perfectly accurate supercomputer that stands to represent the highest degree of technological advancement in humans. When HAL attributes the error of the antenna to “human error”, he may be correct. It seems far too much to create these expectations of operational perfection for HAL while also coding him for the purpose of being closer to humans––because it comes with the flaws and imperfections that they are defined by.

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A common trope of science-fiction does philosophize upon the downfall of humanity by the technological. HAL is demonstrating a human imperfection in his desire for control that seems to bring with it a sense of circularity in the development of humans and the evolution of life-forms. As the hominids in the opening scenes establish a “Chain of Beings” with the introduction of the bone as a weapon, imperative to our development as a species, there becomes a prideful sense of superiority from these kinds of developments––which can apparently be consistent over millions of years. HAL’s retaliation signals the possibility for an upheaval of humans on the Chain of Beings. Kubrick and 2001 author Arthur C. Clarke grapple with the possibilities for the futuristic, yet natural, evolution of existence––whether it is with humanity or not.

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HAL becomes threatened by the possibility of his shut-down after his error. Seeing as the discoveries of the Jupiter Mission are his central motivations for existence––even though it could be initially programmed into his personality––his reaction is in self-defense to save his own life. It is almost animalistic, similar to warring of the hominid packs. HAL’s admittance of his errors and his expression of support for the mission in the moments before his shutdown make his death heart-wrenchingly pitiful. He is a flawed character, and a villainous one too, yet the projection of such unexpected humanity from the supercomputer are what make the audience of 2001: A Space Odyssey truly believe that HAL can actually “feel” his own death. While it is true that HAL’s shut down is ideal for Dave’s sake, this may likewise be true for HAL’s sake. The existence of such keen human imitation demonstrated in the character seems to displace HAL in a blurred space of existence, creating for him a glaring dilemma of identity.

 

HAL takes pleasure in his developing connection to his emotions, whether they are moral or not by human standards. By the end of his life, he wants to feel more than he wants to think. As his “mind is going”, he is no longer intellectually perfect. He may be relying on emotion to express this to Dave. It is this discrepancy and marring of the boundaries that define what it is to be human that gives the HAL 9000 computer such an enigmatic position in the world of film characters. Through the medium of cinema does Stanley Kubrick invite his audience to gaze in aesthetic wonder at the fantastic achievements of humanity and their technological advancements. He also calls for us to reflect upon our engrained perspectives about humanness and what we are seeming to lose connection to with our grand developments and increasing intellect––our place as feeling, living, thinking, and evolving beings.

 

 

Works Cited

Sobchack, Vivian. “Beating the Meat/Surviving the Text, or How to Get Out of this Century Alive”, 1995.

Sobchack, Vivian. “What My Fingers Knew: The Cinesthetic Subject, or Vision in the Flesh”, 2000.

Benjamin, Walter. “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, 1936

Deleuze, Gilles. “The affection-image / Face and close-up”, The Movement-Image, 1983

Balász, Béla. “The Face of Man”, Theory of the Film, 1945